The Thrill of the Ride
by IAmBeneddicted
Summary: John drags Sherlock off to a theme park with the hope of catching a few thrills. Sherlock is less than excited, scorning the idea of rollercoasters until he actually gets the chance to ride one...
1. Do we have to, John?

"Hello, Sir. Do you have your ticket?"

John tore his eyes away from the brightly coloured scene just behind the elegant gates in front of him for just long enough to respond to the bored-looking ticket attendant inside the booth.

"Ah, yes. Two, here. Thanks" he gave her a beaming smile – he couldn't help it. He hadn't visited a theme park in years – no, thinking about it, decades – and the excitement was almost too much for him to handle. His gaze whipped from left to right, taking in the speeding rides and attractions that were just out of reach.

"Thank you. I'll just get your passes… here you are, Sir. Welcome to…" the monotonous greeting of the attendant fell on deaf ears – John practically skipped through the gates in his excitement, his face creasing up with a wide grin.

"John, please slow down. John!" Sherlock sighed, quickening his pace to keep up with his companion. It was almost like having a puppy, or a small child, Sherlock mused. He sighed again, this time internally. "John, just wait a minute. Your face is going to hurt in a few minutes if you keep it like that, you know."

Now it was the soldier's turn to sigh "Sherlock, for god's sake, it's called smiling. It's what people do when they're happy. You should try it some time. Just let me have fun for once, yeah?"

"I honestly don't see what's 'fun' about being here. At all. Crowds, fast food, loud noises. Why did I have to come?"

"Because it's polite, Sherlock." The truth was that the friends had been given free tickets to the park by a customer – a minor case, took Sherlock less than an hour to solve it, but the elderly couple were so grateful that they felt they had to reward 'the nice young fellows' in some way. "Anyway, I certainly wanted to come."

"You could've taken someone else – who's your current paramour? Not the brain-dead check-out attendant with alarmingly large mammary glands still, is it? No, the depressed electrician with the unresolved childhood issues was after her. Then it was the overweight-"

"No-one, Sherlock, I'm not dating anyone at the moment. And anyway, I wanted to take you because, as I seem to have to keep reminding you, that's what friends do. Fun things, together."

"Hmph," Sherlock grunted, slightly abashed – he hated it when John reminded him what a poor friend he could be at times "Right, ah, where to first?"


	2. I Don't Understand It, John

"I take it all back, this _is_ fun," Sherlock said, his voice dripping with the sour tones of sarcasm. The pair had been standing motionless in a winding queue of over-excited visitors for almost twenty minutes now, and even John had to admit that this, in his roommate's words, was tedious.

"OK, Sherlock, I get it. But I promise you, it'll be worth it. Look, they've got stuff for you to look at on the way, see?" John pointed to the black-and-white optical illusions painted on either side of the packed queue line, seeming to swirl and pop out of the walls at the visitors.

"Cheap tricks, easy to ignore once you know how they work. Don't you see, John, it's mind tricks, _all_ mind tricks. That's how rollercoasters work – they get you all hyped up and jittery, anticipating the worst when you get on the ride. You're doing all the work for them – no matter how safe or tame the supposed 'thrill' ride actually is, you'll exit it feeling exhilarated and oblivious to the fact that-"

"Sherlock, shut up! For Chrissake, yes it's all mind tricks, yes it's safe, but that's the point! Getting scared then being safe, it gives you a boost of adrenaline, which is what people crave" by this time, the pair had reached the head of the queue and were being ushered to their seats by an acne-ridden staff member in vibrant dungarees "Just give it a whirl, Sherlock, you might be surprised."

Settling into his harness, John resolved to ignore his flatmate's infuriating indifference; he hadn't ridden a rollercoaster since… well, since before his army days, that was for certain. Decades. Felt like millennia. He was going to enjoy this, regardless. The ride jolted, their cart starting down the track. A toe-curlingly slow ascent; a pause; the curved descent, forcing a yell from the doctor's smiling mouth; corkscrews, loop-the-loops and twists followed and a mere 50 seconds later, the cart jerked to a halt, back at the beginning of the exhilarating ride. John let his head loll back against his seat, a weak chuckle escaping his lips – how he'd missed this! It was all very well getting his adrenaline kicks being pursued by a killer, as happened far too often for his liking, but with this he knew he was safe, so he could enjoy it. Smiling languidly, he turned his head to glance at his friend.

John's mouth fell open as he stared. Sherlock was seated rigidly beside him, tightly secured in his harness, even more secured by his hands, curled into tight fists with white knuckles around the arm-rests on the ride. His curly hair was plastered to his forehead, glistening with sweat, just above the screwed-shut eyes. His chest seemed to be almost convulsing – his breath was ragged, uneven, coming in short bursts.

"Sherlock? Wha- are you OK?" John gabbled.

Unable to reply for the moment, Sherlock merely opened his mouth to gasp, breathing deeply, clearly trying to calm himself. He rested his head against the padded headrest, trying to relax his eyes and shaking.

"I don't… understand it. Never… never before have I… It's the adrenaline... I've... I've been betrayed by my body…"

"Wait…" John desperately tried to stifle an explosive snort of laughter, "the ride did this to you?"

"Of course, John! My symptoms are evidently caused by a rush of adrenaline – something I can't control; I don't believe my body is betraying me like this. How on Earth did you enjoy that?"

Unable to stop himself, John's own chest started convulsing, this time with fits of laughter. He doubled over in stitches, managing to choke out "I told you so! Ha, I told you!" between giggles. "You've just got to relax, trust that there's no real danger, then maybe you won't throw up next time."

"I didn't throw up, there's no need to exaggerate." Sherlock sighed, lifting his head up to meet John's eyes, "How? How do I train myself – my body – to not react like this?"

By this time, all passengers were being invited to exit the ride. When Sherlock's still shaking legs managed to get him outside, John flashed him a grin – this was going to be fun.


	3. Try again, John

"Let me show you." Before Sherlock could respond, John had grabbed his hand and started weaving him through the thronging crowds. Gripping tightly, he headed towards another rollercoaster, passing families, couples, a whole myriad of people. Reaching the end of the queue, Sherlock glanced up at the winding track, his stomach clenching at the very sight. Noticing his friend's discomfort, John squeezed his hand, giving a playful smile as their gazes met.

This queue was far shorter than the first and it was only a few minutes before both men were strapped into harnesses once more. Talking as if to a child, John showed Sherlock the strong safety belts and straps, reassuring him. Somehow, both had forgotten to let the other's hand go.

Sitting in companionable silence, John's feet dangled, not touching the floor. They swung, dancing to the melody in his head. In startling comparison, Sherlock's feet remained firmly planted on the corrugated floor. Once more, the ride whirred into life, John allowed his mind to be distracted from his friend's bizarre state and to enjoy the wind rushing through his riffled hair and the drop in his stomach as the ride soared.

Sherlock, comparatively, could not turn off his mind. Brow furrowing, he desperately tried to deduce what he could about the thrill ride, looking this way and that, but to no avail. He opened his mouth to sigh in frustration, just as the ride hit a particularly large swoop, meaning his sigh became a very high-pitched exclamation of "Eep!"

Back on the ground, John let out a loud whoop of excitement: God, he'd missed this! Once more he turned to his friend. Ah. Once more, a sheen of sweat coated his face; he panted, jaw clenching along with his hand, once more curled around John's. When had that happened?

"Why… Why?" Sherlock growled in frustration, gripping harder.

"It's OK – let's get you off," John said reassuringly; his mind, taking a leaf out of the detective's book, was buzzing with new ideas – how to get Sherlock to enjoy this? Clearly going straight in for the big thrills was the wrong approach – obvious, now that he thought about it. By this time the pair were standing outside: Sherlock with his hands on bent knees, trying to regain his breath, whilst John jogged over to a large map erected nearby.

Kiddy rides would be far too condescending, John thought, not to mention slightly suspicious for two grown men to be riding. Arcade games? They'd only frustrate him more… John's eyes caught sight of a startlingly blue section of the gaudy map, fraught with pirate ships and cannons. Water rides – now _there_ was an idea…

"Come on Sherlock," an optimistic John called, jogging back and clapping his friend on the shoulder. "I've got a plan!"


End file.
